Change Can be a Good Thing
by LianaE
Summary: Stiles and Derek recieve some shocking news that could change everything. Find out how they deal with every curve ball that life throws in their direction. Slash, mPreg.
1. Chapter 1

Guys, after lurking in this forum for months, I have finally gotten up the courage to post.

WARNING: this is mPreg. If this offends you in any way, you have been warned and please do not continue further. Thank you.

"Maybe aliens do exist. I mean, if werewolves can exist, then why can't aliens? That would be so cool! Superman would be real! And Thor, too. Do aliens exist? Cause that would be so awesome if they did." Stiles babbled energetically from the passenger side of Derek's Camaro. Derek wondered how he could be so unaffected when an hour earlier he had been vomiting violently into the toilet.

"Stiles!" Derek barked. He only had so much patience. He was already on edge about the fact that his mate was sick. He needed Stiles to worry about himself as well. His scowl got deeper. The kid had no love for himself, only the people surrounding him. His self-worth was virtually non-existent. "God, you should be worried, too! You could be _dying!_ I can't lose you."

For once, Stiles was flabbergasted. His mouth mimicked that of a fish for a few moments, before the words came. "I am worried, Derek. I'm worried that there will be something really wrong with me, but thinking about it won't help us. I know you're worried, but I'm strong. I will do everything in my power to stay with you. I survived that hunter's shot, didn't I?"

It was true. Months earlier, Stiles had taken a bullet to his abdomen. There had been so much blood, but he had pulled through in the end. Not without a nasty scar though. Derek hung his head. He was a terrible mate. First, he had let him get hurt, and then sick. His knuckles turned white, and his car rolled to a stop on the abandoned strip of highway. He needed to hold Stiles, to feel him alive in his arms. It was the only way he knew to reassure himself that everything was okay. Sour-wolf that he was, he constantly craved the touch of his mate.

Stiles yelped as he felt himself being pulled over to the passenger side. He was roughly deposited in Derek's lap and then surrounded by arms that were as set in place as brick walls. "Derek- what?" I thought we were going to see Deaton, not have a roadside cuddle." The arms only got tighter, and a whimper was stifled against his neck. "Oh. Oh! Yeah, okay, I get it. You need this right now, huh? I promise you, Derek, everything will be fine. So I'm just going to sit here now. Stuck on your lap. While we're stopped in the middle of the road. Which my Dad would totally give us a ticket for. Yup."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." It's blunt and to the point of being rude, but Stiles could care less. He could feel the silent chuckle against his frame, and the scowl lessens from where Derek's forehead met his shoulder. Derek loved his voice- not that he would ever admit it, but Stiles knew. When you were dating a silent, glowering, hunk of meat, you had to learn to read microscopic changes in expression.

"So, do you think I could possibly get back to my side of the car? Not that this car is in anyway mine. It's just, you know, that I always sit in the passenger seat. And, uh, now I'm on your lap. And you're not letting me leave. Did you just growl? I'm just going to shut up now. That sounds like a great idea. Yup. Shutting up." And just like that he's facing the windshield of Derek's car from the right side, in his own seat. Sometimes he wonders if Derek moves that fast just to freak him out. Because that's the reason his heart skips a beat, not that I makes him totally uncomfortable down there. Except now it's making his stomach churn. He wonders if his face is going green because Derek is staring at him funny.

"Stiles, you okay?" Except, Stiles doesn't have time to answer him. When he opens his mouth, he finds himself fumbling for the door handle and leaning over to throw up what little breakfast he had managed to shove down his throat that morning. He ended up on his knees just outside the car, whimpering with every dry heave that contorted his torso.

Derek was by his side in a heartbeat, worry evident on his usually blank face. His hands are rubbing over Stiles back, and caressing the back of his neck. After Stiles was done, he pulled him into his arms, face dark and troubled, and pulled him into the back seat. After making sure Stiles was comfortably spread out, he reached to the front of the Camaro to grab a Poland Springs water bottle.

_"Drink."_

"Yeah." Stiles voice was hoarse, and his throat burned. The water felt like liquid relief. As it went down, the taste of his regurgitated food left, and he could begin to feel normal again. He knew that the strong muscles the locked around his torso that Derek was not going to let it go.

"You're _not_ okay." He could feel the desperation rolling of the larger man. He wanted to comfort him, and tell him that it was just the stomach flu, or a virus, but he wouldn't listen. After losing the majority of his family, Derek clung to the things he loved with wild abandon. His instinct to protect his mate was in full gear. Stiles caved in, and decided to move the dead air sitting in the car.

"Why don't we head towards Deaton's place, now?"

Derek began to climb out of the back seat, but when his mate started to follow he held him back. _"No._ Stay- lay down." He then continued towards the driver's seat, going around the front of the car. Stiles could clearly see the murderous scowl displayed on his boyfriend's face.

"Yes, sir, caveman, sir," He muttered under his breath. If Derek heard him- which he probably did- he didn't acknowledge it. After he felt the car smoothly begin to move beneath him, he rested the back of his head against the cool glass of the tinted window. As Derek broke the speed limit- another thing his Dad would give them a ticket for- he sighed and closed his eyes as he waited to confront his reality. After being sick for a week, and strictly refusing to go to the doctor, it felt strange to finally be in the car. He had a funny feeling in the pit of stomach as they moved, like the news he was about to receive was going to change everything.


	2. Breaking the News

I cannot believe all the amazing reviews I've gotten! Thanks so much to all of you who took the time to read the beginning of my story. And I honestly just realized how ridiculously short it was. Sorry about the wait guys! I had it ready to upload Friday night, but I had my laptop confiscated because my room was messy.

Pulling up to the front of the vet's office was less dramatic than Stiles thought it would be. Unlike in the movies, no dramatic suspenseful music played, instead they silently exited the car. In Stiles' mind it was atrociously, boringly anticlimactic. That was until he felt Derek's ridiculously muscled arms sweep him up like a damsel in distress. He yelped. Stiles would have liked to have said it was manly, but even he couldn't make that argument.

"Hey! Whoa! Come on, man. I'm fine to walk 20 feet towards the examination room. Put me down!" He tried to struggle out of the iron grip, but Derek wasn't leaving much room for movement. He was positive that all he was doing was bruising his own skin.

"No." Derek knew he was being extremely irrational. Yes, he was worried and yes, he wanted Stiles to be perfectly fine, but if he were human it wouldn't be this bad. Derek couldn't help it if his inner wolf had been urging him to do something all day. It had been whimpering inside his mind, "Mate sick. Fix" or "Help mate." With those thoughts and enough protectiveness for two beings, Derek was overcompensating by a small margin. Or a big one. With every step that brought him to the door his own heart was pounding. It was an oddly foreign feeling for the usually invincible alpha.

Having giving up hope of changing Derek's mind on the carrying issue, Stiles was startled again when he was lifted a foot upwards, and having Derek's nose shoved into his neck. They had stopped awkwardly in front of the clinic's door, probably drawing attention from strangers. "Okay, Derek. I don't know what you're doing right now. I'm not even going to pretend to know what you're doing. But whatever this strange scent thing you're doing is, it's got to stop. Then you're going to put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be in the door. Come on, doggy. Mush!"

Torn between growling and chuckling, the larger man made a slightly strangled and still muffled sound against Stile's throat. Almost as if it caused him physical pain to do so, he reached his hand out and turned the golden doorknob clockwise. Still he hesitated. Luckily, Deaton appeared at just that moment.

"May I help you two?" The slightly off vet asked as he opened the door for the couple to enter. Stiles was genuinely thankful and grateful to whatever superior being there was that Derek actually took the necessary steps into the clinic.

"Well, you see, Doc, we've got a problem. I seem to be sick. Like projectile vomiting. It's really gross, actually. Funny colors, too. But, we didn't want to go to a hospital, just in case it had something to do with Derek's mutated Alpha sperm screwing with me every time we fuck. So we figured we'd go to you. I mean Scott seems to think you know what you're doing. So, I was all, 'Hey, why not?' And here we are."

He could literally see normal Derek in his head raising an eyebrow at him- because the Derek currently holding him captive in his manly arms was crazy Derek. He liked to come out to play every once and a while. Stiles could also tell that Deaton had choked on his own spit after his monologue; he was just to dignified to show it. He could see the cogs were turning in the vet's eyes as he regarded them carefully.

Derek raised an eyebrow at the man, while he silently mulled over the news in apparent shocked silence. The longer he waited however, the more Derek's upper lip curled into a vicious snarl. He wanted answers, and the man was proving himself to be incompetent. Just as he was ready to growl and snap his teeth at the other man, Deaton seemed to come back to himself.

"Well," He cleared his throat, "why don't we get you in back to examine you, alright?" He then moved towards the back room. The footsteps behind him were slow, even, quiet, and even calculating, if footsteps could be so. He placed himself so that there was a metal table in between him and the Alpha werewolf and pleasantly asked, "Why don't you just place him down on the examination table, right there?"

Stiles waited to be placed on the cold table, but his mate hadn't so much as twitched. "Derek?" He prompted. Still nothing. In fact, the green eyes seemed to be searching for some object that he wasn't finding within the room. Stiles tried again. "Der? Let's get a move on."

"Blanket!" Derek barked out. Inside his head, wolf and human were waging a war for control, but both seemed keen on the idea of making their mate more comfortable. He wasn't placing Stiles down until something soft covered the cold exam table. A cushion would be preferable, but he could settle for a blanket.

"Of course." Deaton smiled, as if there was no stress placed upon him. As if he wasn't pressured and even frightened of the monster currently inside his exam room. He quickly moved to place a thick blue blanket over the exam area, and patiently waited for the Stilinski boy to take his place on it.

Eyeing the doctor suspiciously, Derek carefully placed Stiles down as if he were made of glass, and bound to shatter. He then took off his prized leather jacket, and folded it gently under Stiles' head. He fixed the boy's clothes and even went so far as to try to take off his shoes.

"Derek, that's enough. I do not need to be coddled, nor will I stand for it. You can leave my shoes on while the Doc examines me. Hey, if he's Doc, does that make you Grumpy?"

Derek let out a terse. "Mmm." Before whipping his judgmental eyes back around to burn holes in Deaton's forehead, letting Stile's question go unanswered.

"Now, I'm more used to treating animals than humans, so this may be a little odd for the both of us. Stitches and gauze are one thing, but examining is another." Derek's eyes narrow so that they are almost slits at the words from the man he so doesn't trust. "I'm thinking I'll start by drawing some blood. I'll run every test I have on it here in the clinic, but I may need to send it out to be tested."

Derek holds Stiles hand as Deaton rubs alcohol over his left forearm. He's tense and Derek remembers him briefly mentioning a fear of needles. Stiles had given it a name, the scientific phobia, but Derek hadn't been listening very well at the time. The Alpha wolf and the usually in control human were still at odds inside him, but when the sent of his mate's blood reaches his quivering nostrils, the Alpha seems to melt out of him. He thinks it's because it recognizes the need for the human to take over and help its mate.

Stiles recognizes the exact moment crazy Derek leaves and normal Derek comes back to him. He sees the tensions somewhat drain from the broad shoulders and the animal unease leave his lover's face. When Deaton heads off with the sample he turns to Derek, and is overwhelmed by the worry he sees in the expressive eyes. Unsure of how to handle that, he simply says, "Hey."

Derek snorts, but replies nonetheless. "Hey. You're a dork."

"Maybe, but I'm a dork who loves you. And you love me."

"Are you singing the Barney song now?"

"Gasp! You know Barney?"

"Yes. I did have a childhood, you know."

"No, really? I thought you came out that way."

"Ha. You're real funny, Stiles." At that exact moment, Derek smells the change in the vet's scent and the increase of his heart beat. His keen hearing picks up the vet's muttering. "No, it must be wrong. I'll run it again." And "It was only a rumor, born from old legends."

Stiles noticed the tension sink back into the werewolf's shoulders, and he was proud of himself for asking, "Um, what's going on?"

Derek's eyes were dark as he replied in a tight voice, "Apparently you're lab results aren't coming up normal." He wanted to go over and see what was taking so long, he wanted to sink his teeth into the vet's neck and only Stiles' hand around his and the knowledge that he wouldn't help things to go faster kept him where he was.

"Err, so he knows what's wrong with me then?" Stiles tentatively questioned. He felt as though he were walking on eggshells.

"I don't know."

"Oh."

Both men tensed nervously when the vet came back over to them. Stiles began to bounce his leg to relieve stress and tension. His neck strained form looking at the vet's face from his horizontal position. Deaton's face was undeniably nervous, and that didn't bode well, since the man normally only showed his poker face, along with happy, pleasant emotions.

"Stiles, it would appear that your blood has relatively the same hormones as a bitch in heat."

Stiles was scared to even ask. "I thought that only werewolves went into heat. What does that mean?"

"Frankly, Stiles, it means you're pregnant. Now, I am going to send a sample out to be tested at …"But Stiles was too shocked to even listen to the man's ramblings. He was busy processing. At the same time as himself, Derek seemed to absorb the news. They both yelled out in unison.

Stiles practically screamed at the Vet, "WHAT?" while Derek let out a deadly, threatening and more venomous, "What?"

"Uh, it would appear that Mr. Stilinski is with child."


End file.
